Letters
by engineerwenlock
Summary: Frank and Alice Longbottom mourn the death of their friends, the Potters and discuss Neville's future. Rated T because Alice's vocabulary isn't always suitable for children.


Frank rolled over and looked at Alice. It was quite dark, but their door was open, and the nightlight in Neville's room gave just enough light that could see his wife's face. Her eyes were wide open. "Can't sleep either?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, "I just can't believe that Lily and James are -"

"I know. It doesn't seem real."

"And poor Harry, off to live with Lily's sister. Lily told me she isn't - wasn't - speaking to Petunia, hasn't been for years."

"Is she - the sister - married?"

"Yes. They have a boy about Harry's age. Dudley."

"That's good." They lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts.

A few moments passed.

Frank took his Alice's hand. "That could have been us, you know."

"What?"

"Lily and James. It could have just as easily been us who - "

"Frank, don't talk like that! The war is over."

"Not for us."

"Wha'd'you mean? You-Know-Who is dead."

"But the Death Eaters are still around. Its our job to bring them in."

"Yes but we're through the worst."

"That doesn't change the fact that its still dangerous. And we're Aurors. Our line of work isn't exactly a holiday on the beach, Alice."

"You're right, of course."

More silence.

Just as he thought she had fallen asleep, she said, "Frank."

"Yes, dear."

"We need to discuss what happens to Neville if we -"

"But we already - oh. You're right." The would have to change their will. They had asked Lily and James to look after Neville if anything happened.

Alice said, "We could send him to your mum."

"We've talked about this." He sighed. "I want him to have a grandmother. Its not the same if his Gran is also his legal guardian."

"But what alternative do we have? We chose the Potters because they have similar values, but also because they're in a similar situat-"

She stopped. "I should be saying 'they had' and 'they were.' But I don't want to say it. I don't want them to be d-dead." She sat up and threw her pillow at the wall. "Why the hell did it have to be them? I hate Voldemort. I hate this fucking war. Why them? Why Dorcas? And Gideon and Fabian? They were pompous little shits, but I can't say it because that'd be speaking ill of the dead."

She got up and started punching the wall. "And the worst - the worst is Sirius fucking Black! How could he do that to them? And poor Peter! At least they found a toe to bury. Benjy and Caradoc didn't even get that!"

She continued her tirade, and her abuse of the wall, for several minutes. Then she broke down and started sobbing. Frank held her as she cried. He gently stroked her back and eventually she calmed down.

As they fell asleep, Frank came to the realization that, despite all the talk of their own deaths, they had only considered what would happen if they both died. He shuddered as he thought of the alternative, of life without Alice. He thought to himself, "_If I'm going to die in this war, I want to go like James Potter, fighting alongside my wife to save our son."_

Over breakfast the next morning, Alice remarked to Frank, "I've been thinking about our conversation last night."

"Which part?" He grinned at her, "Because if you're going to apologize for swearing like a sailor, don't bother. I'm used to it by now."

"I wasn't, but on that subject, don't talk about my bad habits in front of Neville. I want to raise a little gentleman."

Frank snorted. "Too late for that. When you were at work the other day, he bumped his head. His response reminded me of the time you stubbed your toe last week."

She blushed. "Oh dear." Looking over at Neville in his chair, she said, "Now wittle man, do as I say, not as I do, you hear? No bad words for you. Just the nicey-wicey ones."

The boy flashed her a toothy grin and picked up a handful of eggs to put in his mouth.

Alice turned her attention back to her husband. "I was thinking about what you said, that the war isn't really over for us. As much as I don't want to think about that, you're right."

He stared at at her. His smile faded.

She continued, "I want Neville to have something from us if we- if something happens."

"I agree," he replied. "I've actually already done something along that vein."

She was surprised.

He said, "When I was young, my father sat me down on every birthday and gave me advice for the coming year. When he - after he was gone, that was what I missed the most."

She took his hand. She stared at him, her expression telling him more than words could.

He went on, "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry, but I wrote him letters, one for each birthday, just in case I'm not there."

"Oh, Frank! That is so sweet!"

He mumbled something she couldn't hear, a bit embarrassed. Then he asked, "Did you have an idea as well?"

"Yeah. Neville needs to hear the funny stories from when he was a baby. Kids love that. I've written a few down already."

"Like the time he turned my hair green?"

"He was provoked!"

"I was giving him a bath."

Neville, on hearing the word, 'bath' stuck out his tongue and threw a bit of sausage at his father.

"Anyways, yeah, stuff like that," said Alice, after she had finished laughing at her son's antics. "He should also get the stories of when we were dating, and our childhoods. If we - if we're not there to tell him, I still want him to know what we were like."

"That's a great idea. I would love to help."

"Thanks."

"No problem." He grinned. "How else would I be able to tell him about his mum's excellent vocabulary?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me." He winked, then stood up to kiss her across the table.


End file.
